Strawberry Pancakes
by sans nom
Summary: Yamato celebrates mother's day by making breakfast.


A/N: I got stuck writing the end for Yamato's (second) chapter in Our Halcyon Days, so I whipped this up instead. Review? :)

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 _A wife of noble character who can find?_

 _She is worth far more than rubies._

 _Her husband has full confidence in her,_

 _and lacks nothing of value._

Yamato takes great care not to make too much noise. He slips into the kitchen as quiet as a cat. The early morning light streaks into the gaps of the window blinds. Soon, she will be up, and the surprise will be spoilt. He must act quickly.

 _He reaches for the light switch with some difficulty; the button is just barely out of his reach. Muttering complaints about being too short (can he please grow up faster), he eyes a stool in the corner of the room. Dragging it without making a sound proves difficult for the young boy. He tries lifting it completely – it works! Flipping the switch with a triumphant flourish, he carries the stool again to the cupboards._

"Do we still have pancake mix? Ah, good. I was worried we ran out. Two eggs are enough, I think. She loves strawberries. Maybe I should put them in." He mumbles to himself in between hums of this new song he heard on the radio the other day. Making the batter is simple enough. He did it countless times before – usually for his father rushing to work, sometimes for his brother when he spends the night in his apartment.

 _The pan is taken out of the drawer and placed on the stove. He pours the batter slowly, making lopsided circles. "Oh no!" he cries before remembering he was supposed to be quiet. He tries again, even more carefully this time. It takes three more attempts before he manages to get it right. Small bubbles begin to form on the surface of the cooked batter, indicating its need to be flipped. Yamato holds his breath as he does so. He succeeds! He does two more because the batter has ran out._

Sliced strawberries are arranged in a heart-shaped design on top of the stack of pancakes. He places a dollop of whipped cream and syrup on top. "I'm missing something…" he mutters thoughtfully. He examines the contents of his fridge. Spotting a carton of orange juice, he pours some into a glass.

 _The red rose he so carefully kept hidden in his closet is brought out and put into small vase. He wanted to buy her a bunch, but his meager allowance was not enough. Last year, he got her daffodils. This year, he saved up for the rose because he knows that roses are her favorite flower. The boy arranges everything on a wooden tray until he is satisfied. While balancing the vase (it shakes with each small step that his small feet takes), he makes his journey to her bedroom. The door creaks lightly as he pushes it. He holds his breath… but no sound comes from the room. Relieved, he enters. She is lying in bed, buried under pristine white sheets. The spot beside her is noticeably vacant. His father had left for work early that morning so that he can return in time for dinner. She does not like how he works all the time. He hears their hissed arguments through the crack of the bedroom door._

He places the tray on the empty spot and gently shakes her shoulder. Slowly, her eyes open. She is confused at first, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. As she sits up, she notices the breakfast he made her.

 _Her blue eyes light up as she hugs him tightly. "Oh Yama, you made this for me?! I am so proud of you. Thank you!" Her eyes are wet so she wipes them with her hands. He smiles, gives her a kiss and tells her he loves her. She eats the pancakes while exclaiming how delicious they taste. The last one she gives to him._ _'I will do this again next year,' he thinks to himself because he sees how much she liked the pancakes. He does not know that it is the last mother's day he celebrates._

Until today.

His hand touches her bulging belly in sheer wonder. It is warm and filled with promise – giggles and laughter, the patter of small feet, scrapes and bumps, kisses, hugs, messes, tears… She carries his eldest child and for the first time in a while, he feels whole. He brushes his lips against her cheek.

"Happy mother's day, my darling. I love you."


End file.
